


The Devil Wears Armani

by crazynoona



Series: The Devil Wears Armani [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Each shot can be read independently, F/M, Not Beta'd, One Shot, Shameless Smut, Two Shot, a smutty smut one shot collection, im sorry not sorry, its a series of one shot, office tryst, ok who am I kidding, really its shameless, tasertricks - Freeform, three shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynoona/pseuds/crazynoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An A.U fic where Darcy Lewis works for a hot devil of a boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

 

"No, sir, we're having a meeting with the CEO of Nidave Corp. in less than 30 minutes," Adjusting her glasses, Darcy promptly reminds her boss. By now she's already recognized the look he's giving her.

Naturally, her boss' signature sexy smirk accompanied with a quirk of his right brow serves as her answer.

"Tsk-tsk, what did I tell you to call me?" He chides with his silken voice, gazing at her with apparent hunger in his smouldering green eyes.

"Loki ..." She voices dubiously, the sight of him making her heart palpitates, weak at the knees.

Loki Odinson. The man sitting imposingly in his glorious black Armani suit that looks like he's born in it (which Darcy sure is worth more than her three months pay check altogether) is Thor Odinson's younger brother. The sole reason Dr.Foster had offered her this very job, to be his P.A. Because it seems this prodigal second son has a nasty temper. He had a long list of ex-P.A. sent off through his door, crying.

Darcy was about to do the same (minus the crying), but the better part of her reminded her that she needed the money, bad. This is her first real job after graduating, a first job that pays well that doesn't include her washing another pile of dirty oily plates. Those didn't begin to cover her student loans and her father's hospital bill. For this, Darcy owes a thanks to her professor back at the uni. Dr. Foster was the one that recommended her. Her husband, Thor Odinson - is the reigning CEO for their family giant company 'Asgard Industries' - which as far as Darcy knows owns almost _everything_ , everything that is big and shiny in this city has their family name on it. From hospitals to casinos. _Yep,_ they basically own the city. So she decided to suck it in and stick around despite his evil treatment and mean - almost close to slavery working hours. One day she could just purchase a voodoo doll if he's getting (even more) out of hand, for now she already has a punching bag at her small flat.

That was two months ago. Things had been different after that one night. They were left alone together in his office, pulling another all-nighter for a new project. Asshole that he is, Loki is one heck of a perfectionist and Darcy couldn't dismissed but admire his genius mind and amazing work ethics. 

"Good girl Darcy Lewis," He leans back to his chair, long sinful legs wide apart like a dirty whore, motioning a come a hither for her to come forward.

Yeah, so she's been sleeping with her new boss. Who can blame her really? Setting aside his personality, from the scale of 1 to 10 he's a 100. Literally blew off the charts of the hottest of hottest men she ever laid her eyes upon. There must be something in that D.N.A of the Odinsons seeing how the two brothers although different like night and day, shared the same godly appeal. One is the angel while other, the devil.

She can't escape this dangerous liaison that he initiated. Since the first time they've met Darcy couldn't help but drawn into this hauntingly beautiful man and vice versa. As much as she dislikes (translation : HATE) his detached personality, the attraction between them was thick. Darcy still addresses him formally in the presence of other people. It just doesn't feel right, not that he was asking her to. If one thing she knows about this man is that he couldn't give a fuck to what people think about him.

Darcy's heels echoes in the room as she walks closer. Setting aside the folders on her hand to the desk. Loki tugs her hand forward, tumbling her body to sit on top of him. She could instantly feels the hardness of his erection pressed to her ass. 

"Feel that? I need a fix before the meeting," He buries his face to the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.

He pinches her nipple over her button-up white shirt. A moan escapes her scarlet lips. 

"But the - " He hushes her with a finger to her lips.

" _Na-ah,_ what's my rule Darcy?"

"People could walk in - " She tries to reason while her nether part is starting to dampen.

" _Darcy_ "

"Loyalty is fundamental." She answers coyly, knowing full well which rule the tyrant was referring to.

He pinches her other nipple, "The _other_ rule Darling."

Her breath hitches, "Your words are absolute mandate."

"Excellent. Now sit on my desk." He commands with a dangerous leer.

She obliges, climbing atop of his Italian handcrafted carpathian elm's desk. Her cerulian pencil skirt bucked mid thigh, feet apart with Loki placed in the middle. 

Loki reaches to her head, pulls off the tight bun that she perfected for a professional look, letting her hair falls down cascading her beautiful face. But he leaves her glasses on, she thinks he might have a kink for the naughty librarian thing. "Perfect," He whispers.

"Ooh you're so wet, is this for me?" He teases, pressing his thumb over her lace panties. Not bothering to take it off, he just slides the fabric to the side and dips one finger inside.

"Yes - Loki ..." Darcy moans, gripping tightly to the brim of the desk. He kisses her lightly, teasing gently with the tip of his tongue to her lips.

She heedlessly caught his lips with hers, couldn't contain the bubbling desire much longer. Not a minute later, they're both a tangling mess of hot breaths and moans.

Her hands rakes almost violently to his sleek raven hair while his rests on the mound of her ample chest. 

He then moves to bite her nape softly, nipping to her feverish skin whilst kneading her breasts in a cathartic rhythm, suckling to one peak over her thin shirt and her purple bra. Darcy has to force herself to swallow down a scream of pleasure as not to be heard outside the closed doors. 

"Loki, we can't, it's almost time..." She reminds him tepidly, because that's her job obviously, though her body is screaming for another thing. 

He grunts in annoyance, hastily unbuckling his belt, zips down, and frees his aching cock. He takes a few seconds to sheathe himself. Darcy instinctively licks her lips. He never wears undies as Darcy notices.

Usually he'd please her with his mouth and tongue, teasing her until she begs, but thanks heavens time is tight for today. They locked their eyes into one another for a few moments of loud silence. The air is fill with the scent of pure carnal, she knows what he needs as she desperately wants it too. With a nod of her head he thrusts into her welcoming heat with one hard stroke.

"Oh fuck yes! _Oh!"_ Darcy cries as he grunts in pleasure, closing his eyes briefly before - ever so softly, after letting her adjust to his size, Loki starts to move. The most ancient dance in the history of humanity. A push and pull between two bodies. She feels the stars aligned in her universe as he plunges deep inside of her.

Darcy's heeled feet rested on the armrest of his chair, her curvaceous body arches to fill his hard planes.

 _"Fuck!_ Darcy, you feel so damn good!" He voices to her ear as he pumps harder, his movement more frenzied now, placing a palm at the back of her head, urging her to face him frontal as he pushes in and out of her.

"Loki Oh _OH_ I'm so close, don't stop!" She cries out wildly, tugging at his emerald tie for a hold. 

"No Darcy, wait," He growls, face taut between pleasure and agony, he bites his lower lip, a gesture of habit that she finds so endearing.

She realizes he's on the precipice too. Somehow the unease feeling that someone could easily walks in on them in this scandalous position does nothing but to build their burning passion even more. She clings her feet around his svelte body, urging him closer, canting her hips to takes him deeper. "Fuck _Yes!_ Yes ... ughh - oh" He starts to lose himself in the sensation of their building orgasm.

Loki ascends to kiss her lips one last time, and with a whisper he says, " _Now,_ let go Darling"

If it wasn't for his mouth muffling her cries, the whole floor could hear her shout of release, calling out the name of their boss from the top of her lungs. 

They stay in each other embrace for a few moment to catch their breaths before he moves back, pulling out of her, disposing the used condom and readjusts his attire. Within less than five minutes he looks just as impeccable as he did before their brief coition. While Darcy on the other hand, looks thoroughly sexed up. Brown wavy hair mused all over, gone her professional P.A look. She might need more than fifteen minutes to pull herself together, damn.

"You stay here," Loki instructs aloofly as he sees her trying to re-organize herself whilst reaching over to the folders that she sets down earlier, "I can't have the Nidave look at my disheveled subordinate." An expression of disdain painted across his flawless face.

 _Bastard!_  As if his hands weren't the one that put her in this state, she clenches her fists.

The tyrant is back, Darcy thinks bitterly. "Yes sir." She bits down her lip, anger starts to boil in the pit of her soul, unsure on whose to blame as the same thing playing on repeat between them. 

Loki straighten his tie and strides to leave her where she stands in his majestic gait. "Thank you for your _assistance_ Miss Lewis."

She slams down the stack of folders back to his desk as hard as she can, "It was my pleasure _sir._ " Her sweet voice full of malice.

He smiles as he walks further, relishing how enchanting this petit defiant woman is. First off, she doesn't give a shit that he's an Odinson or whatnot, and she puts up with him longer than the others had. Feisty one. He chuckles briefly reminiscing their first meeting. There was never a job applicant quite like her, who dared to give him a condescending glare then went to slam the door to his face after he spelled out his _terms_. Jane and Thor thought they were going to have to look for another brave soul, Loki got them flabbergasted when he said he'd hire Darcy Lewis. _"I like her,"_ he said airily.

It wasn't a bad decision. A big plus that she could also warm his bed, and any other flat surface for that matter.

Darcy Lewis.

He decided to keep her for a long _long_ time.

 

***

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first try on a one shot for my fave OTP. I kinda need a drill for my smut capability since it was rather lacking. So I wrote this one in an obvious shameless smutty all the way, how was it? Was it hot enough or just lukewarm? Really, I need an input for my other on going fanfic.
> 
> Thanks for reading it ;)
> 
> xxoo
> 
> * Btw this is how I envisioned Loki as a boss :  
> 
> 
> That was him saying : "Thank you for your assistance Miss Lewis."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not coping well with Tom's charming lesson on delayed gratification. This whole Hiddle hiatus ain't cutting it for me...thus in my desperation for more Loki, more Hiddles, I present to you the second part of my supposedly one shot. It's a two shots now if there's a thing. Enjoy darlings!
> 
> xxoo

* * *

 

 

SLAP!!!

 

"How dare you!" Darcy fumed, blue flame burning her big round eyes. A collective gasps erupted across the room before another hard slap landed on her boss' other cheek.

The whole room stunned to silence at the sound and what a peasant looking girl had inflicted to the cheeks of Loki Odinson, _the_ Loki Odinson in front of everyone to see.

It is the weekend and as per usual the brilliantly bright dining hall of the ‘Le Ducasse’ is in full swing. Nobody gets a table unless you're somebody or at least had booked a week in advance. They thought, she must be another one of his sluts and he probably deserved those slaps, then continue on with their meals while some of the nosey women (and men too) keep the scene in their peripherals as they sip their expensive wine.

Two waitresses quickly grabbed Darcy by the hands, stopping her from further harassing their important guess. _Shit,_ they thought, will they lose their job? This woman claimed to be Mr. Odinson's P.A, complete with a legit Asgard Industries I.D card. A matter of life and death she said, that's why they let her in. They should've known better by the way she's poorly dressed, one of them looking at her multi-colored gypsy skirt and black converse condescendingly.

The man in questioned stays exceptionally calm, his face unbiased, sat majestically on a classic white and gold Baroque style dining chair, one hand assessing his attacked cheek while the other rest on his thigh. His partner on the other hand, looked shell shocked and ready to burst like someone somewhere was misquoting Marilyn Monroe, or _(gasp!)_ Mean Girls. "How dare _you_ Miss!" She started to rise from her seat, placing her napkin primly on the table, looking down at Darcy as if she's some kind of an insect (presumably a cockroach).

"Lady, this is none of your business!" Darcy spat back, pointing her finger to the beautiful blonde, a warning in Darcy's eyes sent shivers to her and she decided to zipped her pretty (barbie) pink mouth. Smart move, thinks Darcy.

She finally found where the bastard was after their 'midnight rendezvous'. Less than half a day passed and he's already getting it on with another woman? _Incredible!_

Darcy couldn't help but noticed how she must looked like a hobo compared to the sophisticated woman fashioned in Chanel from head to toe. She actually feels kinda bad for interrupting, but what can she say? She was too pissed to think things straight! Just look at her choice of wardrobe! She never wore these kind of garbs in front of him or any other people on a professional level. At least, as generic as her usual button up shirt, blazer and midi pencil skirt were, they’re presentable, professional.

Last night Loki had insisted to drop her off after another late night at the office. It was the first time he ever did so. Probably for once the thunderous sky and heavy rain knocked on his frozen heart.

He drove her in his Jaguar, the sound of trickling heavy rain, deep engine revving and some instrumental music that sounded like it came straight out of an old noir thriller movies (depressing, dramatic kind of music _uugh!)_ which got her thinking she might ended up dead in the corner of a dark alley somewhere filled the small cabin. Her hand was on the taser inside her bag the whole ride. Loki didn’t say anything until they reached her district, probably it was best not to because by the look on his stiff face, for the first time since a long while Darcy felt embarrassed on where she lived and how she hated him for making her felt it.

Darcy was a bit panic when he invited himself for a 'tea' (which obviously lead to another thing). Not because of the state of her room, but the unavoidable presence of her punching bag (the one with his name on it).

Surprisingly, he was cool about it, arching his elegant brow in mockery, but letting it slide without further assessment.

Everything went fine, subliminal in fact. The churning murderous intent in her soul arised alongside the morning sun. She woke up alone with a cheque laid on top of her dresser. There were so many zeroes on it, it left her a bit dizzy. Furious was an understatement to describe what she felt at that moment.

Yes - so she sleeps with her boss, but hell-to-the-no if he _thinks_ he can put a tag for that! It was merely an act of symbiosis-mutualism between two consenting adults. Which part of that did he not get?! God how she wished to flip all the tables at this fancy smantsy looking place!

"We're deeply sorry Mr. Odinson, she _claimed_ to be your P.A." A very nervous Maitre'd showed up behind Darcy with two securities in tow, ready to kick her out of the snotty restaurant.

" _Oh_ , she is." Loki's light answer garnered a look of bewilderment from the Maitre'd, even more so when he sees the expression on Mr. Odinson's face. Who seemed to be rather amused above everything else, "Could you excuse us and let her go please?"

"Absolutely sir, pardon us." He groggily instructed his subordinates to releases Darcy. "But we can't afford having anymore of the scene - "

"I _assure_ you there will be none. Leave us." Loki cuts short, sharp and commanding. The party dismissed within seconds, leaving Darcy standing in front of him (and his date) with her clenched fists.

Loki politely excuses himself from the other woman and takes Darcy by the hand, "Behave yourself Miss Lewis," he chides as they walk past tables after tables and heading south to where the rest room is (she guesses).

Darcy grits her teeth, her jaw tightens but she doesn't answer. She doesn't need the whole room of pompous moneybags to hear what she's about to say to this asshole.

He opens the door and dismissed everyone out of the fancy rest room, locking the door behind them. Just as the door 'click-ed’ Darcy swings another slap to his face. This time he catches it mid-air. 

 _"Tsk- tsk_ , such temper Miss Lewis," Loki snarls, "You know, not in a single situation did I ever tolerate such uncouth behavior slips unpunished." He cocks his head to the side, studying her face under the scrutiny of his predatory eyes. 

"If I wanted to become a _whore_ I'd be working in a brothel!" She shouts to his face, her wrist on his grip.

 _Ooh ..._ Realization dawns on his brain, so it is about _that_. "It wasn't a form of payment for your - _our_ coition if that's what bothering you Miss Lewis." 

Really, it wasn’t, Loki muses. He maybe an ass and many other lowly beings, but he never has to pay for sexual pleasures. That would be utterly degrading mostly toward himself.

Last night he was simply taken aback at her choice for a living quarter. The salary the company gives her is more than enough, she could afford a much better place. Somewhere  safer, closer to the office. Where did she spends all her money? Her furnitures were less than ordinary, so did her wardrobe. They were all dull and common unlike the owner. Not that it was any of his damn business, maybe she's a big spender on other things that he just didn't see. They maybe _intimate_ but never a friend. 

 _Or_ should he runs a second background check on her? One can't never be too sure, she could be a spy sent from one of his many seedy foes. Though the chance would be slim because apart from the (first) background check he did, Jane herself vouched for this one, and unlike Thor, Jane never did that kind of thing unless she's 200% sure.

That was why, this morning - in a good spirit as her superior, he left a cheque. She could use it to find a better place, or whatever. _Maybe the amount was not enough?_

"Fuck you!" She pushes him backward until his back hit the crimson wallpaper behind him. 

He grabs her by the waist, pulling her flat to his body, "I'd love to." He drawls to her ear, a smug grin rises on his face.

Darcy tries to free herself from his embrace to no avail, he's clearly much bigger and stronger. Besides as mad as she is, she couldn't dismiss how magnificent that tight tailored blue suit hugs his slender body. And how she hates herself for noticing that! "Let go of me!"

"I have a better idea," His green eyes bored into hers, his pupils are dilated, and his breathing's heavy as he rolls his hips to hers. At the hardness she feels pressing on her abdomen she realizes that he wants her again. This sick bastard is actually turned on! Darcy thought.

"No, go fuck your da-" The sentence was left unsaid as he shuts her mouth with his soft lips, his palms cupping her head, tipping to the right angle.

 _No no no!_ This isn't right! Her brain warns her. But it feels _so_ good, so fucking good. Darcy instinctively kisses him back, her fingers dig to his back, if it's not for his jacket his skin would be clawed mercilessly.

This isn't a kiss, it's a battle, it's a skirmish between their lips, tongue and teeth. There's no gentleness in her response, she attacks his lips viciously, punishing him that she could almost tasted a hint of blood in her tongue. Whose? Who gives a shit.

 

"Fuck you Loki!" she spits at him in between their little war.

 

He lifts her off the ground effortlessly, places her on top of the counter with mirrors aligned behind them. His long fingers work their way to her legs. Thank gods she doesn't wear one of those tight pencil skirt she usually wore at the office, he thinks. The skirt bucks up all the way to her hips, with two harsh strokes her lace panties torn in shreds.

"In good time Darling," His fingers finds their way in, slide between the hot and wet folds of her cunt and she instantly whimpers his name aloud. She doesn't notice how wet she is until she feels his fingers doing splendid performance down there.

They wrestle violently, there're probably more bruises on him than on her. She bites into his neck, his shoulder, Loki groans in delight, the thin line between pain and pleasure is dangerously erotic, and for her - the thought of hurting him, even only for a bit is quite satisfying.

Her curses laced their zealous foreplay, "Likewise Darcy," says Loki tantalizingly in his sultry baritone and his wolfish grin, "I loathe you too." 

He bites her nipple over her shirt, "Take off your shirt" 

Both are still fully dressed apart from their unfasten middle sections, she's very much open for his further advances. His erection is free from the confinement of his tailored pants, teasing slightly to press over her cunt in a maddening pace and pressure, but not quite entering. He's going to make her beg, the first woman dare to land a hand to his face, such nerves this one has.

 _"Dammit_ Loki, just fuck me!" She cries out, tugging at his lapels.

"I said, take off your damn shirt. Or would you prefer if I tear it apart too?"

She glares, but obliges non the less, pushing the fabric over her head in record speed, leaving her only with her hunched up skirt and lacy black bra. 

"Such fine creature you are Darcy," his eyes rake over her _inspiring_ assets, devouring her whole with his gaze. With one free hand he tugs down the cups and caress her naked breasts before his lips come down to claim them. He licks, he sucks, he laves both breast in turns. Her hands grab onto his head and after a few moments she yanks his hair so rough it must've hurt, angling his face to hers, "Stop playing Loki!" 

She wants him, she needs him, _now._ Darcy cants her hips for further friction, he dodges. "Say _please,"_ he whispers softly.

"Try and make me," Her defiant gaze challenged him. She pushes him back, switches their position so that now he's the one pressed to the counter. Then she kneels down. With both hands she grips his hard length, eyes on him intently as she licks the pre-cum on the head of his cock like a cat would on a bowl of milk. Loki hisses. She smiles wickedly before proceeding to bring him into her mouth.

Within seconds she got him panting wildly, hips undulating to her mouth, hands gripping firmly to her hair. He tries his best not to slam too hard into her mouth, such beautiful mouth who knew it possessed a magnificent sinful skill. _"Fuck!_ Darcy Fu--"

Loki stops her abruptly by the shoulders, guiding her to stand. In one swift motion he pushes her to the counter, her hands on the ledge of the cold marbles, her back to his.

 _Later_  - he thinks, keep the pleading session for a later date. In which case, Darcy couldn't agree more. 

She can hear a tear of ripped foil and in seconds he thrusts deep into her core. 

"God, oh Oh _OH!"_ Darcy cries out at his sudden penetration.

The reflection in the mirror displayed his glorious lustful face, lips slightly gaping in pure pleasure, his vulturous emeralds locked to hers and the way he sucked in his inner cheeks accentuated his cheekbones and jawline even more, _fuck!_ A turned on Loki is the sexiest Loki!

He chants her name, his eyes drank in the erotic sight of their bodies entwined with another on the mirror. Loki's hand reaches to fondle her breast while the other to her clit.

" _Darcy,_ " there's urgency in his voice.

He's so close, she can feel it, she pushes back as he dives in, harder, faster, she's on the verge of her climax too. "Don't stop Loki, oh fuck oh fuck _ooh_ yes - !" Her vision blurred as the world around her bursts into blinding colours. 

Loki joins in after her inner muscles convulsed around him, clenching him in the most delicious way. He holds her tight into his embrace as he rides his final wave of release. Their heartbeats mingles, clamouring loudly in the empty room.

 _Fuck -_  that was the most satisfying angry sex she ever had her whole life, Darcy muses, lowering herself to the counter to seek balance. But then her brain starts to function, she frantically tries to straighten up herself, gathering her clothing back. Damn him and her weak self resolute! That was not what supposed to happen!

Loki briskly tidying himself, buttoning the shirt, suit and pants back to their proper places. Combs his inky hair with his lithe fingers.

 

"Take this shit back!" Her hand reaches to acquire the rumpled cheque from the inside pocket of her bag, shoving it to his chest, not meeting his eyes.

"Darcy…"

"No." She raises a hand to stop him from saying anything, backing away, turning her heels and reaches for the door knob. Reality starts to flood in, and it is harsh. What is she really? Making out with another woman's man in the rest room while the woman unknowingly awaits on their table? She might as well be a fucking whore!

He catches her by the wrist, his touch is rather gentle this time, stopping her from leaving the room, "It's not what you think."

"No?" She snorts, her hand pausing on the knob. "Then what was it? 'Cause the last time I checked, you're not running a charity -  _sir_." 

What was he supposed to say? At this rate the truth would surely pisses her off too, "Considered it as…a bonus for your over-times if you want," he threads carefully, one can't be too sure in how to handle a fuming woman. "Trust me, if I was to render it as a payment for your magnificent service, I'd put some more zeroes in it."

...

Fuck - he shouldn't have said that last line, Loki bits down his lower lip - fidgeting. _Fidgeting!_ For gods sake, this had never happened before!

 

Darcy stiffens, he was sure she's going to explode again, but she surprises him when she turns to face him with a polite smile painted over her beautiful face, her usual professional mask, "It's not necessary _sir_ , as we had agreed upon my contract and as you most _kindly_ reminds me on daily bases with your _endless_ rules."

"See you tomorrow morning at the office, have a good lunch sir." She slams the door loudly and walks away with grace, head held up high despite her obvious thoroughly kissed lips.

See how you can fuck your blonde now Odinson, she thinks spitefully as she struts away.

Loki was left speechless, the petit brunette is definitely something else. That was the second time she had slammed a door to his face. He chuckles to himself, imagining how his mother would be less than pleased hearing another of her arranged 'date' had ended in such disastrous manner, only this time it was not his doing, per se.

He has Darcy Lewis to thank to, because that dull woman in her first lady inspired outfit almost suffocated him with boredom that faking a stroke were starting to sound like a good idea. If it wasn't for her father, the chief judge at the City Supreme Court, he wouldn't even be here despite of what Frigga had begged.

Though back to Miss Lewis, maybe the next time around he'd better keep his cheques to himself. How refreshing. It's not an everyday occurrences to have someone actually refused an Odinson's money.

 

Oh he likes her, he _really_ likes her.

 

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The attire on Loki's super sexy body on this chapter was the one Tom wore to the Cannes Film Fest. Yep, that exact three piece blue suit that was basically oozing, dripping, screaming the word ...
> 
>  
> 
>    
> ... Bless you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession before we start, that I did watch a _certain ___ad for one too many times (not even sorry), which lead to this chapter. In fact that particular (panty-dropping) ad was the one that ignited this whole fic.  
>  And so to commemorate this marvelous day, the 9th of February, I present to you, my 3rd shot. (If it were a vodka serving I'd be on my way to the tipsy-land.)
> 
> Enjoy darlings!
> 
> xxoo

* * *

 

 

One week.

It's been exactly one week since the last time she saw her boss. Well -  _not really_ , she did  _see_  him on the newspaper's gossip columns, a few times since he landed in the city of lovers. Parading himself like a GQ man-whore with his choice of (at least) one woman of the night. Deducting from the lack of fabric on their dresses they were most probably coming from the Sluts-R-Us. They were all so perfect, beautiful and all that jazz. Darcy stares at her own reflection on the floor-to-ceiling window.  _No Lewis, don't even go there!_ She barks to herself and turns around, back to the stacks of papers waiting on the desk. 

This whole taking over the Nidave Corp. was dragging too long to Loki's liking that he decided to go to France and slay them in person. For once, Darcy was left at the main office to keep an eye on things, things like people trying to stab his back, because surprise - surprise, there were lots.

“Miss Lewis, listen and listen close, I’m going to give you a list of names that I want you to pay your close attention to while I’m away,” He said that day before his flight. He mentioned some names, some of the shareholders and their not so innocent intentions towards the company, but mostly towards him. “No, _do not_  write these down.”  **No**  written evident, he said. Lately she found out that - as usual, his suspicions were on point.

It was rather peaceful without him around, the office felt less like a battlefield with the absent of his venomous words and set of rules that he referred as his (dictatorial) mandates. She wouldn't be surprise if turns out there are some ropes or/and chains, whip and muzzle gag somewhere in the back of a hidden door of his never ending lines of bookshelf.  

The office felt even colder without the master, not that it was a warm place to begin with. The color palette that he chose was very - _Loki_. Dark and forbidding, hues from black to grey and midnight blue. Sterile, distant, unwelcoming to any visitor. His choice of art blends well with the abyss-like theme. A huge Pollock no.14 in the middle, right on top of a lining cabinet. While the wall behind his wooden desk, ornate with a pair of ancient looking double edged swords.  _Yes_ , he collects them.

His return date is yet to confirm. Though thanks to technology, even set a continent apart, their daily communication was effortlessly maintainable. Endless data sheets and various documents for her to input were all he sent and those were all she's been doing other than spying on those noted by him. Her days just gone from flat to downright dull. 

It's now thirty past midnight, she eyed out the window, to the silver moon mocking down at her, along with the freckles of lights coming from other buildings, painting the overcast town like fireflies.

No, she doesn't want to go home to her pathetic flat just to be reminded that it's weekend and she's alone. There are lots of work to do anyway, so she stays around like she did the night before. 

 

***

 

Loki arrived on his private jet, the Excalibur Quatuor enclosing on his left wrist shows just how late he is. Weighing between going straight home or the office, as usual the latter easily won, he needed to check on something anyway. Surely, there won't be anyone to spy him at this hour. _Yes_ , even more so in his own office, as the saying goes darling, the walls have ears. 

He dismissed his chauffeur and the limo, preferred to ride on his obsidian-colored convertible Jaguar himself. He revved the engine and it roared down the darken pavement, slicing into the cold night as he went. Loki missed the city, the damp, the sinister crisp weather. Never thought that would be possible considering their history together, but he did.  

 

He raked his sleek raven hair, long legs swung out of the car graciously heading to a private elevator that leads straight to his floor, thinking just how fucking exhausting this whole undertaking had been, not to mention those scrawny witless witches that flocked shamelessly to him like bees would a flower. Predictably, after Thor got married, those vultures turn to him, how very  _convenience_.

Taking off the moss colored double-breasted wool blended Armani coat and tugging it on his arm, Loki exited the elevator, jaunting off to his office in a silent rigorous movement.  

 

Suddenly, he stopped. Noticing an amiss.

 

There were more than just the sound of the cleaning people and their humming vacuums.  

Loki saw a dim light inside his office. Slowly he opened the door, a dagger propped on one hand behind his back, pausing, waiting. One in his position can't be too careful, Odin’s shady businesses had been _hands down_ to him. Of course we all have to keep the golden prince's hands clean, but still someone has to take one for the team. 

There was a faint music. Coming from a laptop he guessed,  _‘La Vie en Rose’_. _Hmm…that's new,_ though the choice was a tad too mellow for a thug. 

Soundless like a cat, he entered. There was no one on first glance, until his eyes found a figure slumped over his desk with a laptop still opened accompanied with the buzzing of a printer running. The only light that was lit is the one on the desk beside the laptop. 

There he saw her.

 

Darcy Lewis. 

 

What is  _she_  doing this late of a night? Doesn't a woman her age rather went to a club or something? He loses his tensed posture, sheathing the dagger, placing it back to the hidden fixture of his jacket.  

Well - he did give her tons of shit to work on, he eyes the stacks of documents piling neatly around her. Despite her sinful figure the girl turns out to be someone that he can trust. Her works are impeccable, her attention to details astounds him. She's the only survivor after dearest Freija retired from old age one year ago. The only down point was her smart mouth, with the attitude to match, but he can live with that, he smirks as he comes closer to where she sleeps. 

The light gives such beautiful hues of gold and purple dancing on her alabaster skin, a fine contrast to the dark room. She almost looks untouchable, like an illusion, a faraway dream.  

Her head rests sideways on the keyboard, her hands in either side of her head. Her bun in a disarray of beautiful mess. The glasses half dropping on her nose. A smeared of black paint on her left cheek. The barbed-wired walls the girl used to erect were nowhere in sight. She looks so young, so innocent, he almost feels bad for using her as his sexual counterparts.  _Almost._  

Loki was about to caress her cheek when she abruptly opens her eyes in - _shock (?)_ and caught his wrist in her much smaller hand. Without any preamble her other hand comes swinging to his face, a gift of a jab on the ready. A second of a slower reflexes then his nose might take the toll before his pride. 

She blinks a few times until she recognized the obscuration looming in front of her.

"I-I'm sorry, I must've fallen asleep. The cartridge on my printer got jammed, so I use yours. I didn't know you're coming back." She stammers, still hazy from her brief sleep. He sets aside the hand that almost knocked him over, he can feel a slight tremor there. 

"Why didn't you notice me? I would've been ready." She reigns back her feisty composure, tilting her chin upward, fixing her glasses in place.

The fear in her big blue eyes gradually dissipated, "Didn't mean to startled you," he says. That was one weird reaction coming from a woman, as if she was ready for something bad or  _worse_. 

"You didn’t, I’m just a light sleeper." She replies tersely, shrugging her shoulders, then proceeds to steer away their conversation. "Oh and all the documents for tomorrow morning are ready, or should I say  _this_  morning." 

"No rush, it's Sunday after all. Why are you still here?"  

"Why are _you_ here?" She retorts, busying herself with the printed documents on the desk, shutting down the devices, turning her back so she doesn't have to face him. Was there a trace of drool on her face? Dammit, why must he came un-announced like a fucking thief?

"Hmm ... let see, this is  _my_  office." He feigns a look around the room, crossing his hands over his chest now, leaning lazily to the desk. "Why are  _you_  still here?" 

She gives him the stink-eye that says  _'Duh! Working obviously!'_   

He chuckles, "Splendid dedication Ms. Lewis …"

Loki inches even closer, both hands now trapping her to the desk. Her soft back molds against his hard chest. "I missed your company." His drawls, his voice smooth as liquid chocolate, of the finest kind.

She snorts contemptuously, _yeah,_ good one buddy!  

His hands snaking to her slender waist, bringing her closer to his body. "You don't believe me?" 

"Should I?" Lust starts to cloud her mind and floods her lower region. 

For a few seconds Loki seems to contemplate for an answer, "I guess nobody should." He plants a kiss by the crook of her shoulder. "Especially a smart woman such you."

She turns to face him, her body's moving without her consent, it seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to this man. Her fingers wanted to sculpt that perfect structure of his face, his sharp cheekbones, his jawline, everything, "Loki, flattery isn’t needed here." Darcy states candidly. 

 _"Mmh_ ... straight to the point, a woman after my own heart." He pulls her into his tight embrace, a fire ignited in his groin. "Then let's not waste both our time Darling." 

"Damn right." Her hands tug off his jacket then proceed to the bottom hem of his cashmere pullover, slipping it over his head until she can feel his cold skin under the tips of her fingers. 

He does the same, with less the patience. Some of her buttons bouncing to the desk and some to the floor. Again, he didn’t remove her glasses. His expression - ravenous, dangerous. Without removing her nude-colored bra he devours her breast, starting his invasion from the clavicle to her cleavage, tracing down with his tongue and lips before he kisses the mound that is spilling from the confinement. He takes it off then. 

"Perfect, you're exquisite, magnificent," he purrs, velvety voice, raw and husky. She feels like a prey under the scrutiny of his predatory gaze, the emerald greens switched to soot, watching her intently between adoration and burning desire. 

She cups the back of his neck, kissing his mouth openly, hot and wet.  

 _This_ , she needed this. Kisses as sweet as honey, they tasted like sin. 

Darcy can sapour a hint of Martini on his tongue, and a dabbed of cardamom and vetiver on his skin.  

His hands roaming over her body, down, down, even under. He peels off her usual pencil skirt, in a color of a blood rose this time. Red and blazing, like her lust for the man. He tugs her mismatch panties, rolls it down her legs. And, while he's on his knees, he takes his time to worship her. 

Loki trails butterflies kisses and feather-like touches that send shivers all over her body, from the curve of her fibulas up to her inner thigh, to where she needed the most. 

“Mmh … you're dripping, all for me?” He didn’t wait for an answer before proceeding to ease a finger and starts the tease. He then takes it out for a second, sucking his pointer finger, slick with her honey into his mouth, all the while keeping their eyes locked onto another. Another moan escapes her lips as he continues his thorough exploration.

Darcy's starting to lose her footing by the attention he's giving to her cunt. Her hands bucked to his hair, urging him and his magnificent tongue and fingers to go on. One flick more, two, three before he sends her off the edge, crying out his name with abandon. 

He rises above with a smug smirk on his face, lips glistening with her moisture, and _god_ \- Darcy’s breath caught in her throat, how devilishly erotic he looked! Standing there with his disheveled hair, swollen lips, marred with her rouge tint from their kisses, unbuttoned shirt that gives her the delicious view of lean tone abs completed with the glorious adonis belt that leads to a massive bulge inside his tight ash-colored tailored pants.  

"That needs to go." Darcy's eager hands reach to his belt, intended to strip him bare. She can feel the shudder on his taut skin as she pays back his earlier attention. 

She was almost on her knees when he stops her, "Darling, need you  _now_..." a desperation in his low sultry voice, he removes the remnants of his clothing in haste. 

He lifts her up from where they stand, eyeing for the Chesterfield leather sofa. No, not there, too far - thinks Loki, maybe another night. Instead, he sets her down the floor, the ebony calamander wood adorned with his wool jacket should be warm enough. With the pace they’re going, he really doesn’t need a sibylline to foretell that it’s going to scorch.

Propping himself with one hand while the other spanning on her slim waist, he places her softly under him. Eyes locked, breaths mingled, wants painted on their faces. And, once more as their lips met, the wildfire, the sizzling dance starts again. 

Darcy locks her feet behind his back, right around the narrow of his hips, she opens herself to him, inviting him in. He sheaths himself in fierce rapidity and takes the invitation. His movement - slow, precise as he cants her hips, aligning her entrance with the head of his cock, then he thrusts hard and deep.  _Yes_ , she whimpers.

Tight, silken, hot, scorching, burning. "Fuck _yes,_ Darcy…" his eyes snapped shut from the shot of ecstasy, his hands dug into her hips, almost to the point of bruising. He can feel her walls contracting around him, engulfing him, taking him whole.

Too long, it’s been too goddamn long since he yearns to be inside this irresistible defiant woman. He can’t seem to get enough, fucking her is like a shot of the finest morphine through his veins. Every atom in his body comes to life, rejoiced, revering in the taste of her.

They move in tandem simultaneously, skin on skin, the rippling of his muscles over her soft curves, flexing, bending, tighten closer to a purpose.

His fingers wrap under her breast, with his thumbs rubbing rhythmically on the areolas and her beaded nipples before bringing them to the heat of his mouth. Her nails clawed to his back, marking him as hers. Maybe not tomorrow or ever, but for this moment he is hers. 

Every withdrawal, every thrust heighten their senses, words cannot justly describe how exquisite the feels coiling inside her. She grows restless with each friction.

"I'm close ... oh god OH please …" She cries out as he keeps a steady pace, a rapturing pace.

This time he takes off her glasses, places it above her head, wanting to stare nakedly into those mesmerizing blue eyes, drowns in them. He lowers down to silence her plea with a searing kiss, letting his tongue lingers inside her mouth, mimicking the movement he does with his cock. He's close too. His fingers found her clit, twitching it the way she likes most. 

Fast, hard, deep, even deeper, until their skin glistened in perspiration and the scent of sex lingers heavily in the air. 

Her orgasm sent shivers, electric shocks rippled down to her toes. He came as his guttural voice calling out her name again and again like an echo. He thrusted a few more times, releasing every single drop of him into her womb, before they went still, limp against each other, sated, completed. 

 

Loki lifts his body off her, chastely kissed the top of her head, whispered a simple thank you before he stood. He located his scattered clothes, putting them back on like an armor and just like that, he's back.

Darcy reached for her glasses before she scrambled to her feet, doing the same. There will be no point to stay around after this, she won't be able to focus on anything work related, and spending time with Loki Odinson this late of a night (morning) without a decent cup of coffee may lead to a bloodshed. Counting out him dismantling those fierce looking swords, she might actually stand a chance with her high heels and taser.

"I'm going home." She said firmly, buttoning her ash-colored trench coat, bag in hand, taser inside. She knows any other men would try to stop her or maybe putting on some chivalrous act and shit to take her home, but this one won't.

That was, honestly, rather convenient. This fling between them, affair, or whatever it was labeled, required no pleasantries or courtesies both ways. This was their little agreement, their unspoken pact, their common ground.

For still young she maybe, Darcy Lewis has had enough of men and their bullshits. In her list of bullshits, right next to flattery was a forgery of concern.

Besides, the last time he did drive her home had gotten them into that not so decorum morning-after restaurant/bathroom tête-à-tête. That incident remained unspoken to date, but from what she assessed, it looked like her point was taken. Good.

It's 3am, the darkest of the night, but this city never sleeps, she'll manage to get a cab. Maybe. She just can't stay here, anywhere but here. At least until the sun bring her back on Monday morning.

The devil’s tucked in anyway - safe in his frozen lair, how dangerous can the world outside be? And by now she knew that  _no one_  was stupid enough to actually mess with Loki's subordinates. No one.

Loki glanced idly, weighing on something in his brain before saying, "Take the car." 

She shook her head and he nodded heedlessly, accepting the silent refusal, "Good morning sir."  

 

After the sound of the doors closing, and the clicking of her heels grew distance, Loki blew out a breath, peeking over his watch again and noticed that now he only had a few hours to execute what he intended to do in the first place. 

Not that he was complaining, she's such a pleasant distraction. If he’d let his libido made the decision, she wouldn’t be leaving this office, at least not until the moon rises again on a Sunday night.

He took out his smart phone, scroll down the contacts before lightly touching the green button. "It's me. Follow the girl, make sure she reaches home safe.”

“Yes, that’ll be all, for now." He slipped the phone back to his pocket, turned his heels toward his desk.

Of course he had to keep her safe and sound, would be such a hassle to find a replacement just as  _good_. 

 

Until tomorrow Darcy Lewis, until tomorrow.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked/hated it? Do let me know ^^
> 
> The suit-porn inspiration for this chapter was from this photoshoot :
> 
> Those were actually not Armani (some Acne Studios, Bottega Veneta and other brands, I _honestly ___don’t really care since everything looks good on him – and off him too I bet), but for the sake of the title let us all assumed that those were.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for dropping by :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassed of my smutty smut writing? I lied.  
> So, here's another one.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy darlings!
> 
>  
> 
> xxoo

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

More than anyone, Darcy Lewis knows her life has never been one of those painted in blushing roses, or water-lilies if you much prefer Monet, but she also knows how to be grateful, for each fracture along the way had shaped her into who she is today. A strong, un-wavering, independent woman.

 _Okay,_ that last bit still need some (a lot) upgrading, but she’s still young, she’ll manage, _somehow_. One thing for sure though, she refused to achieve that from playing a sex-kitten to a certain usurper overlord (READ : her boss), lying around on the surface of the soft, lush Egyptian cotton sheet on a king-sized bed, inside a penthouse in yet another Odinson’s tower.

Which ironically enough, was where she is at the moment. She stretches her deliciously sore body, opens her eyes to a somewhat familiar surrounding.

 _Oh the list of choices this sick life has bestowed upon you._ If ever existed, the wo/man above sure has a dark sense of humor.

Under the duvet, a naked, long, strong slender leg moves behind her back, clutching her by the hips, soon the owner dived his aquiline nose on her shoulder, digging in his teeth too as a matter of fact, and when his pelvis comes to nudge on her hide, for sure she knows that someone is _awaken_. Again.

She never met someone with such un-satiable hunger like him, Darcy thought as his hand came to wrap around her breast, gently squeezing, tugging her even closer to the warmth of his toned body until both of them perfectly aligned with one another, side by side.

But then again, all the men she had met before could never hold a candle compared to this man. Not saying that he was _that_ good, on the contrary. He’s one cold-blooded bastard with an iron fist, a merciless shark when it comes to his chain of businesses. Two of someone alike out there would screw this whole city in matter of weeks. _Yet you’re swimming with one Lewis._

 

“Mmmh … Loki – “ she writhes under his expert touch, his fingers splayed across her soft thigh, marching up to where the dampness of her enticing him, luring him in.

 

Loki treats sex like he does his businesses, always charging, unrelenting, and most of all, impersonal. Now _that_ part works for her, that’s why she lets him pull her deeper along his raging current. Drowning her with the exquisite taste that is Loki Odinson.

 

He was literally someone on another different level, a god among pedestrian such as her, but when it comes to sex, they’re nothing but equal. And, inside her mind, he’s just a tool for satisfaction where satisfaction was needed. Nothing less, and god forbid! Nothing more.

 

 

***

 

Loki woke up with an un-ease throbbing hardness between his legs, more than his usual ‘morning glory’, it’s another different pleasant sensation, knowing that for once, she wasn’t leaving after the _deed_  is done. Which was odd because usually he's the one who cannot wait to throw those women out, a night-in was **never** an option.

But Darcy Lewis, ever the anomaly, always rushed to leave no matter how late the hour was. It wasn’t like he’s going to ask her to stay, it’s just he (ludicrously) couldn’t help but felt a bit offended at her cold gesture.

 _Hm ... so that’s how it must feel for ‘them’._  

Somewhere between those frenzied few rounds they shared, tangled in the sheet, the wooden desk, and the velvet palanquin, he did sleep. Surprisingly quite soundly, for the first time since he could barely remember. Without any help of medication or work induced exertion.

Loki lifted the lids of his eyes lazily. A shimmer of sunlight danced across the silky surface of her back, lining down to the classic curve of her waist and generous swell of her hips. She’s more than just a goddess. She’s a fucking Venus, Aphrodite, and Gaia all in one. Beautiful. Unreal. He traced a finger to the length of her spine.

Seeing her when he opens his eyes first thing in the morning is a new feeling that he could get use to, if he chooses to, which he won’t. But as for now, he’ll indulge in the feel of her. The magnificent taste that is Darcy Lewis. 

He bends his head to smell her, to taste her flesh (so delicious too). A gentle bite follows. His eyes haven’t completely adjusted to the dim light inside his room, from the shy morning sun peeking through the drapes of his Valances tailored curtains, he can tell that it’s still early. He has time to indulge some more. 

In a haze he pushes into the sleek hotness of her folds, stretching her, easily penetrating deep and slow as she’s already dripping from his touch.

Loki growls low, revelling the sweet sensation, the contraction of her tight cunt surrounding him, grappling him as he thrust further in. Her soft whimpers and sighs heaves with the cold morning whiff each time he ignited a friction.

His hands settling on her hips, guiding her movement, slowly easing out before fiercely thrusting back in, chanting praises along with her name.

He entirely approves all the fuss about morning sex, this magnificent glorifying feeling before you battle the world outside is indescribable. 

Much to his embarrassment, this time he senses that he couldn't last that long, something in the way her narrow honeyed walls constricting around his cock, even tighter than before makes him feel like he could come in any given second. Hot, throbbing, squeezing him mercilessly. His breathing panted, drunk in the overwhelming sensation.

But then, his traitorous brain noticed, he realized the one important thing that slipped of his mind.

 

Protection.

 

They actually spent every single piece in the box last night.

 

_Hell, that’s why it felt exceptionally good!_

 

 _“Darcy,”_ Loki grunts, trying to suppress his impending release. 

“We don’t have anymore condoms,” he roughly says, pacing down, chewing his lower lip in embarrassment. 

_Fuck, what are you Loki? A goddamn seventeen?_

Her right hand reaches up to tangled on his tousled hair, she whispers softly, “I’m on pills Loki.”

Then, her hips pushed backward, sheathing him. A wild mewl escapes her lips, “Oh _yes_ – Loki don’t stop _oh!”_  

Darcy grows accustomed to his usual fast and frenetic rides, but this morning, with a daze of sleepiness still hovering above their heads, his slow but firm thrusts send a different kind of sensation, she decided she rather like it. A lot. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, his tone wary. 

“ _Yes,_ Loki yes, come in me …” she moans wantonly, curving her body to his.

Her words snapped the control right out of his synapses. He rolls her over, trapping her under him with a feral ferocity and pumps right back in.

Fire burns on his smoldering dark eyes. “I want to watch you come” he moves, “Say my name Darcy,” he withdraws sadistically slow, “ _Say it!_ ” drawling and panting as his pelvis dances some more.

That does it for her, seconds later Darcy’s cries of release ricochets through the overcast room. Shouting out his name over and over like a prayer, loud enough to awaken a whole floor (luckily enough it’s a penthouse).

 

Her body quivers ceaselessly on the mattress. Her messy rich-brown hair cascading around her, like a halo. He lower his head, tracing wet kisses from her forehead to her shoulder, and once again, leaving a viper’s bite on the apple of it when he too, let go. Tidal waves of release coursing through his body, frantically he pushes a few more times until he’s spent and flops down beside her.

Darcy was half asleep when his hands come reaching out again as he demanded huskily to her ear,

 

“Darling, on your knees.”

 

Evidently, he’s not done. Not yet.

 

…

 

A beeping sound from the answering machine woke him up an hour later. Frigga’s voice softly reverberates through the speaker. Stating that if he dodges anymore of her calls, she’ll invite herself over.

 

Loki groans in defeat and drag himself off the bed to head for the shower, begrudgingly untangling his limbs from a sleeping ~~gloriously naked~~ Darcy Lewis.

 

 

***

 

 

“I take you don’t like my meddling, dear.” The blonde older woman stated calmly. Poised and regal, setting the china tea-cup back to the French table in front of her.

“If this is about Miss Tate – “ That daft boring woman that he stood up right after the bathroom 'incident'.

Frigga waves her hand unceremoniously, cutting him off. She always has that diminutive way of looking at him that sends him right back to the time of his youth. To the days of innocence, where he was happy, green and free.

Though a glitch in her smooth tone didn’t escape his ears, he knows her too well, and to where exactly this conversation will lead. Which is (wait for it) …

“My 50th wedding anniversary party is coming in a few days. Come and bring _the girl_.” Frigga is _dying_ to see the girl with her own eyes, the one that got the whole town talking, over what happened at the _‘La Ducasse’_. A sly smile stretches on her tinted lips, from what she heard, the girl put Loki in quite a tight spot. Rattled his cage. Not many were able to do that, not to his youngest son. She likes her already.

Loki doesn’t need to ask which _girl_ Frigga was referring to.

Darcy Lewis.

Nothing escapes Frigga's knowing eyes, especially not a scene happened in her circle of socialites. The owner of that damn restaurant was one of the members of her “book-club’.

 _Oh mother, ever the schemer._ If he didn’t know any better, he would _never_ suspect her of not being his biological mother. The one woman that got Odin on his knees, of course he wouldn’t expect nothing less but cunning.

She’s his Achilles heel, his savior. Saying ‘no’ to her was never an option. He literally _owed_ her his life. Though he could not dismiss how highly optimistic his mother is, especially since she _knows_ his history.

_That tempestuous night. Those masked men. The warehouse. The coffin._

Surviving such tribulation, who would dream of a future filled with church bells, flowers, white fences, a loving woman awaiting at his doorstep with the sound of children’s laughter? Frigga, that’s who.

This time he would ‘hate’ to disappoint, but that’s not going to happen. Least not before a _fair_ retaliation, he’s a businessman after all.

And in this game of chess, he knew just what’s his next move will be. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he replies, “Of course Mother, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

***

 

 

Darcy fidgets on the back seat of a limo, dressed in a very beautiful amaranth red Elie Saab couture. Her fingers caress the smooth drapes on her long frock.

She did say (proudly) that she doesn’t believe in fairy tales and their princes, but in this moment, all dolled up in a fairy-like costume, for the first time ever, her own treacherous heart betrayed her logic.

She couldn’t come up with some rational reasons or explanations other than he was asking her for a date. Where they actually go out, _fully clothed_ for a change, all fancy in fact, and not work-related (she triple-checked his schedule, the perk of being his P.A).

Was this - a prank? Or was Loki Odinson _really_ asking her for a date?

Was the sun set in the East? _Exactly_ , that can’t be it.

Darcy squirms some more. She feels at lost with the uncertainty. Though judging from the state of the dress (she tugs it up again), he wouldn’t slaughter then dump her off to the nearest lake with dead-weight shackles around her ankles ( _nice details Lewis_ ). Even a sick psycho wouldn’t go to the extreme of dressing up his target, _right_?

The low-cut on it’s front really displays her _busting_ assets. Which is the sole reason for her growing discomfort, because honestly, one size bigger wouldn’t hurt. Her already ample bosom is anything _but_ helping her (not so) little situation.

Not wearing it did cross her mind, but she doesn’t has any other option hanging in her closet (bet those she bought from _Target_ wouldn’t cut it for Loki), she would hate to show up looking like a drab compared to his always impeccable suited self, and turning the dress down would be impolite, she’s _not_ Loki after all.

Let's just hope he picks a private place (he seems like a private guy), because most definitely, people would stare, and not for a proper reason either.

And ... let’s just wish she wouldn’t snap the seams of this dress after a meal, because she hasn’t eaten yet when his usual chauffeur knocked on her door unannounced, holding a huge white box with the prettiest stem of blooming red rose on top of it. With a (very) short note inside,

 

* * *

 

 

_I’ll be waiting,_

_L_

 

* * *

 

Would it kill him really, to be more descriptive for a change?

A few hours earlier, stood in the small doorway of her beaten-down flat, donned in her old sweatpants and oversized sweater, she was about to refuse his invitation (seriously), because today was her very rare day off where Loki wouldn't pester her around. Besides, she thought they were already going at it like a pair of heated rabbits the night before, probably enough to keep her through another week without any sex, what more could he possibly wants?

But then she looks back at the delicate red dress and the precious rose, both in the exactly same shade. Those looked like a sincere invitation. Right? _Oh shut it Lewis, you know you wanted to!_

It stunned her for a moment, a crazy stupid notion flashed on the back of her mind.

 

_Does he know?_

 

Does he know … that it’s her birthday? Impossible! _Nobody_ knows, not a single living soul (well supposedly her father _should_ know, but most of the time he was too drunk to remember to even have a daughter). Not for the last eight years. The birthdate she filed in her documents was on a different month and date.

It would only mean nothing but disaster if Loki figured it out, because that would leak to another information regarding her past.

That was why she spent last night at his place, breaking her own ‘no-sleepover’ rule, because unlike any other nights, every once a year, she didn’t want to be alone.

Alone reminded her on past memories, of what used to be, her _not_ so charming life. And Loki Odinson was the perfect solution. He almost kept her awake _all_ night long. Her cheeks flushed at the memory, at the way his tongue spelled out her name. And more. _Get yourself together woman!_

 

The limo finally halts to a stop, and soon after, the chauffeur swiftly opens the door for her.

 

 _Shit, this is it then._ She was too caught up in her own thought and too nervous to notice her surrounding on her way here. It was all but a blur of passing trees and road lights (she left her glasses at home).

But then her heart drops to her gut as her high-heels steps on the gravel that leads to dozens of small steps to an entrance of what looks like an enormous mansion robbed straight out of the court of King Louis the XIV.

The lights coming from inside the lavish building, casts some magical spectrum of colors across her pale skin.

She took a few steps up the stairs, closer to the intricate vines-carving art-nouveau design on the double doors. Before the doors, stood what seemed to be two doormen on each side.

The sound of merry laughter from inside the room snaps her reverie. Then her steps stops dead. This was _not_ a private event. It’s the exact opposite. This is a party of the extreme grandiose. Those swanky crystal chandeliers, brilliant vibrant colors from flowers she couldn’t name adorning every corner, a faint music from a live orchestra filled the air along with the chat of people (a lot of _‘oh darling’_ and _‘hi darling’)_ and the glinting of silverwares.

 

 _No_ , this is wrong.

 

Loki dislikes this kind of gathering. Her fists grip vexatiously to her dress.

 

This was _not_ a date.

 

_Of course it wasn’t you moron! When will you ever learn?_

Loki was up to something, and it won’t be good (it never was). She looks down to his choice of a dress. The wrong size was _not_ by accident so it seems. She would stands out like a beacon, a peacock among those swans, those elegant socialites fluttering their Princess Kate inspired women suits and dresses.

 _Beware of the Greeks bearing gifts,_ they said. Indeed.

She turns her heels about to leave, running from an impending doom, looming over her future shall she choose to stay.

 

“The party is this way Miss Lewis.” Greets a silken voice behind her, trapping her between the devil and the deep blue sea.

 

She swallows down her disappointment. Her futile attempt on fleeing had just flushed down the toilet. She can’t runaway now. He’d think she’s a coward when she’s anything but.

 

“Good evening sir,” She turns effortlessly with a brave smile, coming face to face with the most gorgeous fallen angel ever grazed the soil of the earth. Dressed like a daydream in a razor sharp suit, black as the night. Oh, if looks could kill.

 

 

***

 

 

Loki watches her from the corner of his eyes. It’s been less than twenty minutes since her arrival. They’re now retreated to the east wing of the dining hall. She’s been silence since. The calm before the storm he noticed.

The clock is narrowing to 7pm, the time when the couple of the night makes their grand entrance along with his brother and Dr. Foster.

Darcy’s fingers holding on to a slim flute of champagne (that she doesn’t bother to taste, not even a single sip) as if her life was depends on it. He worries that the glass might soon shatter.

His eyes glued to her presence since the moment she descended from the black limo that he sent. Needless to say, she looked stunning. She sent his heart galloping towards an embarrassingly ridiculous beat. Varied of emotions painted across her beautiful face, ranging from confusion to crestfallen, a sudden constricting twinge twisting inside his sternum at the sight. _Conscience_. Turned out he still has it after all.

“I guess you guys don’t serve buffet in this kind of shindig huh?” She asked sarcastically, breaking down the awkward silence. Standing side by side by the end wall of the large banquet, overlooking the whole room, they look like a pair of unmatched wallflowers.

“… No.” He answered, his face unreadable.

“Figured. Nice place though, yours?” She looks around. The inside of the mansion is even more lavish than the outside.

“No.”

“Wow, _somebody_ just beaten down his own record for being the most equivocal ass of the decade.” Darcy retorted, her growing irks toward this man had gone up through the roof.

Blatantly, he was parading her like a prized-mare all over a room full of European people, managed to avoid a lot of unnecessary small talk (rudely, it’s sort of his _thing_ ), but still making sure that every single head inside that room took a mental note of him and his not so-classy companion.

She was asking him under her breath the whole time (in between fake smiles and courtesies hand-shakes, she only understood half of their funny English accent anyway), _‘What the fuck is going on Loki?’_

Was this a birthday? Most probably, but _whose_?

He just replied coolly with a simple, “ _Later._ ” Whilst waltzing in through the crowd, nudging her forward, firm hand around her waist.

 

After a short pause his long awaited answer finally came, “It’s my parent’s house.”

Frigga always prefer to hold her private affairs at home, that includes her anniversaries which held in this very place each year with a short list of guests, most of them consists of close relatives. It is as private and low key as the Odinson can get, though judging from the non-existence of the media hounds, they did quite all right.

_Did he just say this is his parents’ house?_ Darcy’s jaw clenched, alarmed. “Loki … what are they celebrating?”

There were no conspicuous signs (those usual tacky banners or something) that could reveal the theme beyond that it was an ostentatiously posh party.

“Its nothing at all that important.” He answered vaguely, resulting in a chilling glare from a very pissed off 5’4” woman on his side. And so he elaborated with a  _little_ detail, “It’s their 50 th wedding anniversary.”

A late realization dawned on her, those Icelandic guests with their magnificent statures that left her feeling like a Liliputian in the land of the Vikings. Scratch business associates. Those were all _his_ family! This fucktard actually took her into his parent’s private party, on a dress that basically screams _‘I screw your son!’_

He was making a statement, she hasn’t figure out what for, but even an idiot can see where her role fits in this fucked-up scenario. She’s the main show-girl. The dark prince’s mistress. The whore.

She turns to face him, shoving the champagne back into his hand, “I’m leaving.” This was not what she came for. Heck, it was not what he paid her for!

 

“No you’re not. _Stay_ , the party will start shortly.” Loki stated, voice as calm as ever, tempting her to shove her heel up his ass on principle.

“ _Watch. Me_.” Fire in her eyes, bile laced in her voice. She backed off a few steps, turned her heels around, locating the way out. She won’t let him get what he wants. She won’t let his parents see her, and most of all, not Dr. Foster, who was always so kind to her.

Darcy didn’t glanced back, not even once. She just struts out like a charging bull. Her petit figure soon swallowed by the sea of towering people.

Behind her back, she can hear the music changed its beat, a male voice in a thick Swedish accent blaring from the microphone, signaling that they’re going to start the event.

Loki was about to chase after her. Telling her that leaving was not an option, she _can’t_ leave! But then a large hand patted him by the shoulder. Judging from the force of the swing that could dislocate his joints, it doesn’t take a genius to be able to guess on whom that might be.

 

“Brother! Come sit with us, father and mother already await.”

 

 

 _Oh great_ , just shoot me now.

 

 

***

 

 

Darcy storms out the building, leaving the midsummer-night’s dream behind.

 

_How dare he!_

 

Her heels clacking down the stairs, she’d laugh if one of those actually falls off just like one in those fairy tales when it's not even midnight and this isn’t a goddamn Disney movie. Not even a Jane Austen’s novel. There is no Mr. Darcy, no white knights, no princes, no happily ever after. None.

 _God!_ She can’t believe she actually fell for it! She even did her hair and make-up flawlessly. How embarrassingly stupid!

She bites down her lip, feeling her eyes burning, but she refused to shed a tear. Not for the likes of him. When her courage falters, she bites harder until she can taste a hint of salty iron on her tongue.

He’s not her puppeteer. Never again will she let him toy around with her, she vows to herself. Too bad she couldn’t afford to quit just yet, but there’s one thing she can do. She’ll _cut_ the strings off.

Looks like the time to put an end to their unspoken covenant has finally come.

 

Go to hell Loki Odinson, go to hell!

 

***

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

* The amaranth red rose that he sent stands for an imaginary, undying flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked/Hated it? Do let me know ;)
> 
> The suit-porn inspiration for this chapter (breathe) : 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Imagine him, looking like _that_ , walking over to you ...


	5. Chapter 5.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I'm completely blown away at the response to this fic, I thought it might raised maybe a couple hundreds of hits and some kudos at most, but almost 200 kudos and nearly 4000 hits? Wow! Maybe it wasn't that much for some, but for little old me that was like - wow, WOW! Thank you very much for those, you guys are amazing! *tearyeyed* *nokidding*
> 
> Because honestly, as much as I love it, writing is not my forte, and honest honestly, rather than a linguist I am actually more of a visualist as my major back at college was visual art, howeveeer I did amazing things when asked to elaborate in words on some visual descriptions and concepts for my works, those tons and tons of rambling, my professors loved them, they thought I was so profound and stuff LOL well, anyway, here's another chapter.
> 
> Enjoy darlings!
> 
> xxoo
> 
>    
> * oh one more thing, for this chapter to make sense, you're gonna have to read the previous chapter ;)

* * *

 

 

The harsh bustling wind and wet trickles of pouring rainfall hit the window plane of his parked car, sending enough chill to blur the door glasses with vapor when it mingles with the hot steam of their breaths. Blue and purple lights cast to the droplets of water, creating an illusion of transient magic around them. Midnight skies wheeled above their heads, one of the perks of having a panoramic glass roof over your coupe.

 

“Loki…”, Her voice calling his name, bewitching like a siren’s euphony in the stormy sea.

 

His eyes couldn’t look far beyond the pouring rain outside. But it did not matter, nothing was, because what is most significant in this cold, darken night, is this one magnificent woman in front of him, gazing straight into his soul with fire kindling in her dark blue eyes, regally straddling on his lap. She’s such a vision to be revel. A goddess, a warrior, a rose - not the delicate one, but sure is a rare one, and he is blessed with both the beauty and the thorns.

 

He’d been throwing his caution and care off the window minutes ago. The thought of getting caught in such precarious act was probably already drifting itself away to the arctic sea. “ _Darcy,_ ” he could barely recognize his own voice, gruff, desperate.

 

“Have you ever done this here before?” A coy smile splayed across her face. Her cheeks flushed in the most flattering shade of fuchsia, her full red lips swollen from their earlier kisses and he couldn’t help but think how stunning this woman is and how lucky he was to be in this exact position.

 

Loki shook his head, entranced, finding himself wanting to smile too (which he did), “No, not since I was sixteen I suppose.” It was in a different car, more spacious one.

 

“Then you’ve led a boring life Mr. Odinson.” Darcy rocks her pelvis against his hardness, teasing him zealously. Her hands coiled around his neck, fingers playing with the circlet of hair on the back of his head.

 

The front of her white button-down blouse was left open, her bra un-clasped, giving him the most glorious view of her torso, the curves of her waistline, the pale silken skin on her abdomen, and most of all her beautiful pair of amazing breast.

 

A devil's smirk as his hands travel up, trailing circular pattern on her dark pink areolas before tracing down her soft and supple thighs, resting on the swell of her hips, “You could say that I did Miss Lewis.” He nuzzles his nose affectionately to hers before landing a kiss on her lush lips for the umpteenth time.

 

His hands grope under her hunched up skirt, stunned for a moment when he noticed that she didn’t wear anything under it.  _Minx!_  He slips his fingers to find her delicious cunt is soaking wet.

 

She swats the hand that is buried inside her folds, placing it on her waist, “ _A-ah_ , no. Not until I told you to.” Like a good boy, he obeyed, despite himself, wanting to play along.

 

“You’re still over-dressed,” she said. Her hands move to reach for his belt.

 

Loki arched his head back to the headrest of his seat, anticipating her next move with pained expression, strong hands still firm around her waist.

 

“Hmm  _darling_ , all hard and ready, for me?” She teased, desire lit up her face, hunger in her eyes as she took him in her hands. He hissed at the first touch of her soft fingers around his aching member.

 

“Touch me more Darcy,” he said gravely, jaws tighten at the sensation.

 

“Like …  _this_?” She gripped tighter, stroke a bit faster.

 

“ _Nggh_ …more – “ Loki cried in pleasure, oh how he wanted to fuck her right then and there, but at the same time wanted to savor this moment for eternity, and repeat.

 

Darcy’s hands diligently stroking his cock in a fierce pace, hard and firm, letting the seeping head of it dragged along her dripping folds. His chest was heaving, face contorted in lust.

 

“ _Darcy ..._  “ , there was an unspoken plead in his voice.

 

“Do you want to _fuck_ me?” She taunted, her breathing heavy.

 

“Yes, yes Darcy … I want to fuck - _fuck_ you hard,” He said in fervour, his hands holding on tighter, struggling for control.

 

Her lips ascend to his, he eagerly reciprocates to her kiss, desperately needing a contact, letting her tongue invades in before he responds in the same manner. Deep, wet, scorching. Essentially, she’s fucking his mouth with hers.

 

“Touch me.” She affirmed to his mouth.

 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. At once Loki reached for her breast, fondling hungrily, squeezing, rolls the nipples under his fingers. A loud moan escaped her lips when he finally took one into his hot mouth. His other hand trailed south to touch her cunt again.

 

“Loki…” The sensation of his clever fingers were getting overwhelming. Her hand touched the side of his face, levelling their eyes. “I want to feel your _big_ hard cock in me,” She said.

 

Loki swiftly lowered the seat, making as much room possible for them in this tiny compartment. He tugged up her skirt some more, placed his palms on her ass, in his velvety low voice he said, “Ride me darling.”

 

Darcy propped her hands on his shoulder, rose up slightly, aligning the tip of his cock with her cunt. Ever so slowly she lowered her body. Incepting the girth of his crown, giving him a little squeeze that drove him mad, before seconds later altogether at once she pushed down, taking him to the hilt. Their long cries of pleasure echoed in the cabin.

 

They stay immobile for a few moment, reveling the sensation of being joined together again, letting her stretched to the amazing length and girth of him, “You feel so damn good inside,” she started to move, pulling out to take him deep once more, leaving trails of sigh on her wake.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Loki closed his eyes, the feeling of her tight walls constricting around his throbbing cock, flesh on flesh, without a barrier, it’s beyond liberating, it felt so fucking good.

 

She whimpered louder as she bobbed on his shaft, intelligible words had left his acumen.

 

“Loki, Loki, Loki!” Her movement frenzied, their senses heighten with every push and pull of their entangled bodies.

 

“Harder darling, ride me harder.” He commanded, his hands canted her hips, angling for a deeper penetration.  _Yes, right … there!_

 

“Oh god, Loki! I’m almost … almost there … ”

 

“ _Gods,_  Darcy – “ he panted harshly, droving his hips up to meet her thrusts in perfect harmony, fingers probing on her swollen clit.

 

“Loki … I’m … coming …” she threw her head back, curving her body, nails clawing on his skin.

 

“Come with me Loki, come _in_ me …” She let go her holds on his shoulder, her hands playing with her tits, squeezing, pinching them for him to see, urging him on to the precipice. His eyes blazing at the view, especially when he spotted the dark claret betokens imprinted on her flawless skin.  _Mine_ , his mind greedily proclaimed. 

 

 _Hell,_ he can’t hold it back much longer, he pushed harder as she slams her hips down, he kissed her lips, her ear, her nape, her breast, “Darcy, Darcy – “ no finesse in their movement. His only coherent line was chanting her name over and over as her lips does the same.

 

Loki!

 

Loki ... 

 

_Loki …_

 

Then his eyes shot open in a dazzle. Blurry at first, his fists gripping tightly to his unmade sheet, feet tangled under his jumbled duvet. His humming body heated still and panting wildly, and despite the cold, he was glistened in perspiration.

 

_Darcy?_

 

After a few blinks he was finally thrown back to the harsh reality, looking up at the high ceiling, inside the solitary of his own room.

 

“Bloody hell!”

 

He can still feel his uneven breath heaving on his chest, as if a few moments ago he was participating in a marathon.

 

Blast his treacherous body! What the FUCK is wrong with him? What is he? A pathetic thirteen years old?!

 

Loki grunts in utter embarrassment, shoving his face on the palms of his hands.  _Damn, damn, damn!_  He then rolls his body to bury his head towards the piling pillows, wanting nothing but to flush away the incident (considering to suffocate himself to death along the way, and maybe  _then_  his mother will finally hear those damn church bells that she wishes so).

 

His cries of frustration muffled by those Siberian goose down. Which only lead him deeper to another aggravating fact. The fact that there’s something uncomfortably  _wrong_ , awry and moist, gradually seeping to his sleeping drawstring pants.

 

 _Oh for crying out loud_ , he winced. Did he …  _fuuuck!_  Yes, yes he  _did!_

 

He kicks-off the duvet, launches a few humiliation triggered anger punches to his guiltless bed.

 

Darcy Lewis.

 

Darcy _fucking_ Lewis!

 

Looks like messing with his conscious self was not enough, she decided to ruin his rare good night sleep too. That daft woman!

 

Purely livid, he stood up and pull-off the tainted sheet and duvet roughly before stripping himself bare on his way to the bathroom. Mentally cursing his foolish person.

 

His eyes landed on an untouched white box on top of his desk as he passed by. _The dress_. She sent it back two days after the party, good as new.

  _That bloody party_. Why would anyone make a fuss over how many years they had spent with each other? With Odin! The rest of that night went from dull to disastrous, at least for Loki, even more so when he was about to leave.

 

The young valet told him that his beautiful P.A. _took_ his Jaguar, because the lady insisted that it was an _urgent_ matter. She was told to fetch some documents on his behalf. No one was brave enough to decline, not when Loki’s name was mentioned. And so because the limo had left too, Dr. Foster drove him home. With a  drunk Thor who sang merrily the whole journey ( _‘Oh brother! Why the long face? Sing with me!’_ ) beside him. It was a folk song too, mind you. It really didn’t get worse than that (Except for the fact that Dr. Foster was giggling through the rearview mirror, clearly enjoying his suffering).

 

If only.

 

The next morning his car key was on his table back at the office. The car however, was not presence at the building’s basement.

 

“Miss Lewis,  _where_  is my car? I believe you took the liberty of taking it out for a spin last night.” He called her from the parking lot that afternoon.

 

“ _Oh_ , I needed the car to bring me home, but I’ve sent it off, I know not where … perhaps you can check it with your GPS tracking,  _sir?_ ”

 

_Click!_

 

 _That woman – how dare she hung up on her employer!_  He stared menacingly to his phone screen, wanted to set it off into a million pieces. Wanted to go up the elevator once more and hauled her to his desk and plunder on every aperture in her body! His pants actually tighten at the abhorrent thought. Great.  _Fucking fantastic!_

 

Within seconds his GPS showed him the exact location of the vehicle.

 

It was not at the building. It was parked at the city dumpster in the furthest corner of the town.

 

He fucking _loved_  that car.

 

That was more than three weeks ago, and she’s been giving him the (subzero) cold shoulder since. Nerves of steel that woman has. Who would’ve guess that dealing with Frigga would be more of a better option? She could shove at him as much (socially proclaimed) maidens as she wanted as long as someone put this torture to an end! Which in fact, Frigga _did_ , because she was piqued that everyone got to see Darcy Lewis but not her. Hence this week alone, mother shoved another two of  _‘Miss Tate’_  to his lunch plate.

Oh, Loki was  _ravenous_. Sadly, not for the likes of  _them._  

If he knew that all these would be his punishment, he would definitely make a different call that night. Starting with  _not_  inviting her over to his family private party wearing _that_ dress. Honestly, it was a beautiful dress. A bit too revealing for the occasion, perhaps, besides. He wanted to peel off that damn dress with his teeth. 

 _Stop it you moron!_  

He switched on the chrome bathroom faucet, letting the water rinsed over his fucked-up mind and body. The sudden stinging hotness of sharp water droplets released a bit of tension from his shoulder, soothing him. Though still a far cry from enough.

Turns out the feeling of remorse were bitter and horrid, and those not bode well to his sanity. Moreover in this case, he didn’t exactly know how to fix it. This wasn't an equation, not even a business dealing, this was something that he could not politicize his way out of, entirely something outside his comfort zone. 

As much as he hated to admit, he missed her more than just the sex. He actually liked her witty retorts, not many were that brave. And, her sense of humor, albeit it tends to get darker and cattier when she’s hungry or/and tired, but a brief visit to the coffee room or that bagel store across the street always brighten up her mood.

And  _why_  does he notice these idiotic things? Mulling over the fact that his money pays for her salary, shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Her and her damned cherry lips. Her and the sinful sway of her hips. Her soft rich brown hair tight in a bun, how he wanted to mess them with his fingers. Her rimmed glasses, her sweet scent, her  _everything!_  Everything about her irks him! Impudently, without any invitation she infiltrated into his system, crawls deep under his skin. 

He didn’t want to notice anything about that damn woman! Mostly since she doesn’t look at all affected on their lack of ‘communication’. She’s as chirpy as ever towards other people, though irritatingly cool, professional and polite to him. Oh how he craved to crack the icy mask she was putting on display. He much preferred her previous volatile reaction, an anger he can actually deal with.

 

 

“Can I have your signature on this one,  _sir?_ ”

 

“Have you checked the legal documents,  _sir?_ ”

 

“Would you like your tea now,  _sir?”_

_Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir!_

 

 _Can you just shut up and lay on my desk, Lewis?_  His disturbed mind seethed.

 

If possible, her work was even more efficient than ever, she left no room for overtime, frequently he noticed she just took the un-finished documents back to her flat, and by morning everything had magically set and ready on top of his smooth desk. It’s almost like he has his own version of those shoe elves from the Grimm brothers.  _Blasted._

 

Darcy Lewis. Darcy. Lewis. He punches the tiles in front of him. That name must be obliterated from his system or so god help him! _Oh so now you believe in one?_ His mind taunts him.

 

Furiously, he switched the shower faucet from red to chilling blue, wanting to numb his strained body from all the frustration.

 

He needs his equilibrium back, and fast, fusing over a woman is a luxury he cannot afford, least not right now.

 

 

***

 

“Sir, you’re spilling.”

 

Incredulously, Loki snapped his head away from an opened document on his table, with much indignation he narrowed his eyes, sending daggers to a foreign looking young woman in front of him,  _“What?!”_

 

_What did she just say?_

 

His nostrils flared. His nerve ending was dangerously trailing on a tightrope since early that morning. Even a ten miles running on the treadmill did not help. A moment of thunderous silent later he swiftly noticed that he was just being overly sensitive over her trivial words.  _But_  … who is this woman anyway? His sharp and condescending glare scrutinized over her until he caught her tag.  _Great, another stupid intern._

 

“Y-your coffee, I - “ The woman stammered at his reaction, fear in her eyes, face pallid, she pointed down to the spilled coffee on his used-to-be pristine white document.

 

 _Oh blasphemy!_  This is going to be the end of him! His jaw clenched in agitation.

 

He sets down the china with a vengeance. It sends the delicate cup clinking with its saucer and more of the ink-like fluid inside to splatter all over, creating an even bigger mess. “Clean this up and bring me another cup. NOW!”

 

 

Darcy hears a daunting shout from his closed office, followed by a frightened scurried intern, running out his doors for dear life. She can totally relate to that girl on a spiritual level. And strangely, she can’t help but feel a bit guilty towards the new intern that just got scolded. Poor girl.

Though that girl’s timing was terrible if she must say, because on this fine and bright Wednesday morning, where the sun is finally shining through the thick cloudy sky of grey, a wrathful scruffy dragon dressed in a dapper, bespoke dark suit decided to descend and burn the Odinson's Tower of Asgard Industries.

 

 

“Call and tell them, the deal is off and I’m filing a suit.”

 

"All wrong, type it again. From the very beginning."

 

"Where's my itinerary for next week? I'm not an idle man! I need to sort my schedule from now!"

 

"You're fired."

 

"Are you a moron? No, I'm  _sorry_  that was not a question!"

 

"What is wrong with this coffee?! Did you spit in it?"

 

"You're fired."

 

"Miss Brown, do stop by the tailor, my idiotic steward messed up again, go fetch my suits."

 

 

Loki Odinson. On meth.  _Probably._

No one dared to lift their heads to even land a glance at him all day. They were all looking sympathetically to Darcy, knowing that there was no escape for the poor P.A but to face the raging demon.

Little did they know that the P.A was in fact, the apple of discord.

Darcy’s palm is hovering on the cold knob, wanting nothing but to go to the opposite direction. But her job is waiting and him throwing tantrums isn’t going to get it done!

It wasn’t because he aimed those fireballs at her, none at all, he was rather …  _civil_  towards her, she noticed that much, and Loki being civil is almost like him being nice. But trapped in a closed room even though spacious, together with him was hard enough as is, trying not to notice how ridiculously hot he looked day in and day out was even harder. Those stolen longing glances he threw her way when he thought she didn’t notice. Inhaling his male scent, that expensive, subtle hint of cardamom and vetiver, assaulted her sanity.

But  **no** , she cannot (will not!) afford to lose!  She’s not going to back down from her own words. Besides she’s still very much pissed and that insufferable man didn’t even apologize! How dare he! He had crossed the line and that’s that.

She just needs to buy fresh batteries for her  _‘Mighty Mjolnir’_. It was a gift and Darcy hasn’t actually uses it ( _okay_ , once, and it did not live up to it’s hype!), not since Mephistopheles on a suit came and rocked her  _‘under’_  world.

What the hell is wrong with him anyway? As if his usual temper wasn’t already disturbing enough, today he decided to add more  _flair_  to it. She noticed that it's been going on for days. Only, it gets worse.  _Much worse._  If he doesn't have a (marvelous) dick she might assume that it was just the usual PMS.

If anyone should be angry, it should be her! Darcy’s brow furrowing as she ponders in aggravation. If he thinks his last name and bank account can give him the upper hand, he has another thing coming.

Darcy takes a deep breath, counting to three Mississippi, and then another three before she turns the metal knob. 

_Don’t let him get to you Lewis, just go in there, finish your job!_

Bracing a bright smile across her face, she proceeds. Walking over to his monstrous desk, “Here are the documents that you requested,  _sir._ ”

 

 

***

 

 

It seems to him, there are quite a lot of first when it comes to Darcy Lewis.

She's the first woman that actually withstands him, daring, unwavering. As if they were standing on equal ground. She boldly teased, sometimes even mock him with her charming wit.  _"Your horns are showing - sir."_  She once said with her devious smile. He noticed that his days at the office were getting duller by the second ever since she devoid herself of all those quirks.

Lets not forget that bloody cheque, with the (amazing) follow up scene. She actually slapped him,  _twice!_  Truthfully, those hands were quite strong too.

And now, she was the first woman that got him to where he is, like a fish out of water. Standing under the bright streetlight outside a fancy looking shop, a huge Parisian window glass that gave him a good peek of what’s inside.

A week ago he visited an old doctor ‘friend’, not that he was specially looking for a piece of advice,  _no_ , he was in need for a new batch of meds. Loki really did forget about those little pills. Darcy Lewis actually made him forgot about his dependency for them at all. Was she converting him into satyrism?  _Perhaps_. He wouldn't mind.

Thus he went to the hospital. And this Ph.D extraordinaire’s advice were simply,  _"Apologize Loki. Sincerely."_

And somehow, according to the scruffy eccentric doctor, this  _sincerity_  included chocolates and ( _“Not ‘or’, both Loki, send her both.”_ ) flowers.

After three more (disturbingly) vivid dreams visited his sleep, he finally decided to go for the advice. With a dreary sigh and heavy steps, he entered the shop. A young girl greeted him with blooming smile on her freckled face, showing him varied of colorful efflorescence to choose.

"Which one do you want sir?" She asked him cautiously after a few moments of awkward silent. Mentally deducting that her tall and grim guest was most probably looking for some flowers for a funeral.

 _Which one? Which one do I want?_  His right brow shot upward at the elementary question. None of them, actually. He just wants his sanity back. But must it be done this way? By far, this is the most ridiculous thing he ever considered on doing. He's not going to resolve this low, wouldn't he? She’s nothing but a means to an end!

 

_Then why are you here Loki?_

 

Damn his mind.

 

"Sir?"

 

_Make the call Loki._

 

Sighing, he finally gave the young girl his dreadful answer. "All of them. All that you got here."

The girl stared at him dubiously, nobody actually buy the whole lot. Was he messing with her? Was he a nut? Too bad, he's  _kinda_  hot, she thought. " _Everything?_ "

" _Yes_ , everything." He snapped in irritation, impatiently passing her his black colored diamond card and the recipient address. "Give me a bouquet consist of the finest fifteen red roses. And, in exactly forty-five minutes from now, send the rest to that address."

 

That’s it.

 

I'm giving up, Loki conceded pensively.

 

You've won Darcy Lewis. You’ve won.

 

***

 

* * *

 

_* Fifteen red roses stands for "I'm truly sorry, please forgive me."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon me for the tease XD but he was asking for it! Should we, I mean Darcy, torment him more?
> 
> Liked/Hated it? Do share your thoughts with me ;) It'll make my day knowing that someone out there liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
>    
> And incase you're reading this, Q, did I read into your brain message correctly? *crossing my fingers*
> 
>  
> 
> Suit-Porn inspiration for this chapter : 
> 
> Him in this scruffy look (because, reasons!) :  
> 
> 
> but wearing this suit :  
> 
> 
> Basically Hiddleston at the War Horse premiere (but all his pic were all happy and smiley there hence unappropriate for this fic), sans the bow tie, a bow tie would be too dressy for an office look, even for Loki.
> 
> I'll be posting a continuation on this chapter (the 5.2) in a few days (hopefully real life will co-operate), just a short fluff, of Loki, begging. *evilsnigger*
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Really, thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> xxoo
> 
>    
> * Sorry for my clumsy fingers, this chapter got deleted minutes after I posted it.  
> * Not Beta'd, all mistakes are my own, again - commenting on my grammar won't fix them.


	6. Chapter 5.2 (END)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Come on ladies, can we forgive him now? Look at that face, I mean.look.at.him!
> 
>  
> 
> Okay I was being sleazy by showing you girls that gif, anyway, enjoy darlings!
> 
>  
> 
> xxoo
> 
>  
> 
> * PS : Again, for this chapter to make sense, you're gonna have to read the previous two.

* * *

 

 

An insistent rapping on the door caught Darcy’s attention. She grunted, annoyed as she was already settle snugly on her couch, a pint of fudgy Hazed & Confused on her hand, a young and dashing Harrison Ford on her telly. She got plenty of ammo for the night, like catching up with those incestuous from Westeros. She’s been missing out on  _lots_  of things ever since she works for His Impertinency, Mr. Dark & Deranged.

 

 _Damnit! Was it the landlord? Next-door granny? There’s no way she’s going to go look for her missing cat again!_ Darcy wildly assumed as the knocking unceasing.

 

She never had a visitor this late of a night and she didn’t order any delivery.  _Weird_. She slipped into her room to fetch her taser before peeking through the fish-eye hole on the door.

 

 _Hooolyshit!_  Her heart screeched to a halt.

 

 _What is he doing here?_ She swallowed thickly.  _Damndamndamn!_ You should never mention the devil’s name! It would only summon them!

Darcy then took another peek, reassuring herself that the first one wasn’t a mirage.

 

 _Nope_. Not a mirage.

 

It’s him.

 

Loki Odinson.

 

All six foot two of him. With the same look he wore to the office earlier (sans the jacket, the fine waistcoat remains), hands on his back, his face, vastly troubled. His usually sleek hair was in a mess of untamed curls, as if he had been running his fingers helplessly on them.  _Na-ah_ , bad news, she’ll just  _hush-hush_ and pretend that she’s not home.

 

“Miss Lewis, I know you’re in there. I can hear your steps, and your tv is on. Could you come out for a moment?” His smooth as silk voice pierced through their thin separator.

 

 _Oh, listen to you Sherlock!_ Darcy rolls her eyes (to the door). She really doesn’t have the energy to spar with him tonight.

 

“Why? What do you want?” She finally said.

 

“I … um, I want to –  _damnit!_ “ He cursed under his breath before continuing with the same nervousness. “Can you come out first Miss Lewis? I’d rather not talk to a door.”

 

 

No answer.

 

 

“Please … just a bit of your time. I won’t be long.” He pleaded, his tone solemn.

 

Did he just say ‘please’ ? He never said that before, not in  _that_ manner.

 

“Say it again.” She commanded.

 

Loki frowns for a second, “I - won’t be long?”

 

“ _Ha_  – why don’t you just text me and run along then?”

 

He chews his lip, his usual nervous gesture (he looked too adorable when he shouldn’t), “Please, Darcy … please open the door, I need a word with you.“

 

A victorious smile beams on her lips. Who would’ve guessed? On a dull Friday night, when Netflix (and gelato) was the only resort for your weekend getaway, your boss from hell came knocking, came pleading, prettily too.

 

Darcy’s turns the knob (she leaves the chains on), chased away the earlier smile, placing a stern mask over her bare face. She’s getting good at that, learning from the master first-handedly.

 

“You got five minutes. What do - ” Darcy peeked over the small gap, her words hung in the cold night air when he holds out his hands, a huge bouquet of stunning red roses and a fancy small box wrapped in gold on them. It was the weirdest combination she ever saw, those offerings, and his timid demeanor.

 

“They’re my … apology.” He stated (skittishly?) when she said nothing, switching his footing from one slender leg to the other.

 

 _For real? Or is he playing another game?_ She eyed him suspiciously. The way he said ‘apology’ as if it were some kind of a disease didn’t escape her ears.

 

Darcy gotta admit, that him showing up here was out of her calculation. She didn’t have the slightest modicum, an iota of foolish hope that he would actually apologize, not from him, not after all these weeks.

 

She clears her throat, cocked her head, ready to challenge him. “I’m sorry, did I miss out on something here? I’m so confused. I thought we’re doing just  _fine_  at work.”

 

She’s not going to let him off the hook that easily. Pretty gifts? Did he think those were all it took for her to cave in after his god-awful charade?  _Pfft_. Amateur!

 

He should’ve expected this, Loki sighs despondently, “That party. It was unbecoming of me. I was … rude. I didn’t mean to.” A childish excuse, he knew, but that was all he got.

 

“Ooh …  _now_  I remember.  _The_  party,” She blew a whistle, “That was a low blow, even for you Mr. Odinson.”

 

“Loki.” He swiftly corrected before continuing, “And yes, it was. It was low, it was uncalled for - ”

 

“How low?”

 

“Pardon me?” His brow furrowed, his lips pursed.

 

“How low?” A deadpan expression on her face as she repeated her question.

 

“It was not gentlemanly of me to treat a lady - “

 

“ _I said_ … how low?” She cuts through his verbose attempt.  _What?_  Did he read a sign saying  _‘Accepting Loadshit of Crap’_ on her door?

 

He studied her face before carefully uttering his next line.

 

“Dirt on the asphalt low?”

 

“Lower.”

 

“… Scum of the earth?”

 

“Even lower. Try again.”

 

“ … “

 

“ Nematodes. Low as nematodes under the crusty soil.”

 

Darcy bit her lip, trying her best not to laugh at his serious expression. He remembered.

 

Working with Loki, watching the wrath of mass protesters was a walk in the park. He’s not what one would call a  _billionaire philanthropist_ (far from it). And there was one time when a band of scientist blockaded the entrance to the tower, complete with cardboards signs and posters. When Loki passed by, they threw him series of insults with idioms so odd, those were almost alien to both Loki’s and her ears. In short, Loki did what he wants (obviously) and those people still got evicted, afterwards she googled some of their ‘kind’ words and fell into a fit of giggles.

 

She nods, seriously of course, mimicking his look, “Those nematodes died and fester, absorbed by the scaled soil under their dead bodies, and you were the third layer dirt under the remaining.”

 

“Very well, I deserved that.” He tilts his head, a twitch on his thin lips.

 

“So … do you accept my apology Darcy Lewis?” Loki tries again.

 

“Hmm … I’m not sure, because a smartass once said and I quote,  _‘If an apology was ever enough, the jail would be empty.’_  “ She crossed her hands under her breast, feigning a belligerence.

 

Loki blew out a devastated breath, groaning inside, “ … I did say that.”

 

He looks straight into her impassive face, sinking in the situation at hand. He was already knee-deep in humiliation, why not go all the way and finish this once and for all?

 

 _Say it, say it like you mean it, I won’t settle for anything less,_ she thought with unwavering perseverance.

 

“Darcy Lewis,”

 

 _I miss you. I want you. Please someone stop me and shoot me on my damn head!_ His conscience impulsively reverberated. The guileless words itself though, he did not say, they remained lost, like every other useless sentiment did before inside his old cobweb of chagrin and deceits.

 

“Over what I did, I am sorry, I really do. Can you bring yourself to forgive me?” he amped up his pleading, purposely curving his right brow downward.

 

 _Was he giving me the puppy eyes?_ She frowned.  _Yes, yes he did! That was fucking foul play!_

 

Steeling her heart, she rewarded him with an un-biased expression, “Depends. What does this apology of yours entail? Remember that I know how you do your ‘dealings’, those little clauses with their hidden meanings, back doors - ”

 

“Nothing. Honest to gods I – “

 

“ _Oh please_ , save me from your gods Loki, you don’t even believe in one.” She interjected with an eye roll.

 

 _Touché_. He awarded her with an impressed look. “I have no underlining meaning. I simply,  _truly_  apologize for my wrongdoing. Please … Darcy, a truce?”

 

Darcy stares at the smoldering man, trying to read between the lines, knows that he’s doing the same (he’s not one easy to decipher, but then again, so does she). She carefully calculates on what her next move will be, it’s basic common sense really, to learn your cards well when you’re playing with a charlatan.

 

Eventually, she set aside her taser and slides the chains down, slips through the wide gap on her door, coming face to face with the big bad wolf playing a sheep.

 

Gone was the midnight song sung by the drifting wind, nor the neighbor’s cat outside her window. Every sound is narrowing down to her heartbeat, and perhaps, his too.

 

Standing almost toe to toe, in a corridor of a rundown flat, with dim lighting cast over the torn and dull wallpapers, her in her old sweatpants and oversized shirt, him towering with his immaculate self. Their stage couldn’t get much worse than this.

 

Loki drank in the sight of her, and he thought that he might be losing more than half his mind and logic, because even wearing the hideous get-up, Darcy Lewis managed to look ravishing, he couldn’t stop drinking even if he wanted to. The shirt revealed that she wears  _nothing_  under it. His pants suddenly tighten at the view. He shifts his footing once more, trying to curbs his growing unease-ness.

 

Darcy looks straight into his eyes as if she was impervious to the effect of those mesmerizing pair of green, the very shield of the cunning, “That shitty thing you did. It cannot happen again.  _Ever_. Do I make myself clear?”

 

He nods, a glint of light in his eyes, or perhaps it was just the trick of light limned on his perfect feature, “Crystal.”

 

Small steps inched closer to where he stands, “Respect. It runs both ways Loki, treat me with such and I’d do the same.”

 

“Of course.” He replied with bright austerity.

 

“My salary might come from your account, but I work my ass off for that, it’s an equal bargain. Understand?”

 

“Perfectly. You’re absolutely right.”

 

“I know.” She said with a smirk, “I always am.”

 

 _Debatable._ Though this time, the smarter man had learned to keep his opinion to himself.

 

Darcy leans closer, softly runs her fingers on his gray tie up to the tip, she tugs it down, pulling him along until he hunched to level with her eyes, his face lit up in anticipation as she brought her lips a minuscule away from his, her cool as spring breeze breaths hold hidden promises, teasing his filigree-thin restrain.

 

“Darcy … “ His gravely whispered her name with eager elation.

 

“Thank you for the gifts.” She utters softly, sweetly, and on the last second, diverting from his lips, instead landing a chaste kiss on his right cheek before backing out with his offerings on her hands.

 

Before he could react, she already turns around and went back into the safety of her flat, with the sway of her hips she slammed the door to his face. Again.

 

“ _Darcy!_ ” He cried out.  _That woman!_

 

“Goodnight Loki.” She leans her back to the door, smiling from ear to ear, holding the gifts tight into her embrace. That was _much_ better than what she had in mind for tonight!

 

_Loki 0, Lewis 1. Suck it in loser!_

 

“We agreed on a truce, did we not? An honorable man never retreats from their words.” His forehead and palms planted on the door that separating them.

 

“Good thing that I’m a woman then.”

 

“Darcy … “ Was she trying to drive him mad? Testing his limit when he thought he has none left.

 

Loki completely aware that he should be furious by now, _instead_ , he was intrigued, she’s like a jigsaw puzzle he has yet to solve, a game he has yet master. Oh no, he was more than just intrigued. She had awakened a dangerous desire from the dark pit of his soul.

 

“I’ll think about it Loki. See you on Monday.”

 

…

 

“Very well, see you on Monday Miss Lewis.”

 

As he stepped outside, somehow with lighter shoulders and five feet taller despite the drawback, legions of flower that he ordered were on their way up. He smiles wickedly.  _We’ll see how you deal with those._ He won’t let a rejection tainted his spotless slate.

 

Two can play this game, and he’s not done yet, she can bet on it.

 

Game on, Darcy Lewis. Game on.

 

 

 

***

 

Nematodes = parasitic animal that lives at the great depth (0.9 – 3.6 km) below the surface of the Earth.

 

 

***

 

 

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile, back at flat 240-B, a woman was _clearly_  not impressed.

 

“What the fuck?“  _That idiot pompous bastard!_

 

“LOKIIII!!!!”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so tempted to placed Darcy as Mrs. Hudson's tenant XD ! 
> 
> The suit porn for this chapter  
> 
> 
> Him : 
> 
> As for when he showed up on her door without the jacket, I am sure all of us can freely use our wide as Hiddles stance imagination based on the glorious godliness photo above. 
> 
> Me :  
> 
> 
> *** 
> 
> Liked/Hated it? I sure hope you liked it because this chapter marked the end of this fic (no more tease), I thought about adding another chapter before ending it, but turns out I'm a freak with a penchant for a certain sexy godly villain in green and even numbers. Thank you so so much for the warm responses (all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, you have no idea how those made my day!), I am beyond happy that you enjoyed their bumpy ride! (pun intended)
> 
> However, I do have another installment that will be the continuation of this one, their back story (still saucy, how can it not). Because there are simply too many ovary destroyer dapper suits to choose from (my fave on him was Emporio Armani and Alexander McQueen but the later was too long to put on a title. Wait a minute, I like 'em all! Him in Dior, him in Bottega Veneta, him in nothing at all!), not to mention the black leather jacket of sex (it was like Loki himself roaming about Midgard on present day), and that one my dearest, in my humble opinion, need an entire fic of it's own. Don't you agree?
> 
> Where was I? Oh yes, the new fic! I'm planning to paint it in a darker palette (verrrrry nervous about this, can someone, anyone - please hold my hand? Talk me out of it?) just because I'm an inconsistent sort of a writer, wait, no, not a writer, how snob of me, the literary world would weep! A scribbler, yes that's more like it. Hence, there will be a new title instead of latching it as another chapter onto this one. If you noticed (did you?), aside from all the smut, I've dropped the breadcrumbs all over "The Devil Wears Armani". Still not entirely sure wether it'll be a good idea, maybe I will post it, maybe not, but just in case it happens, I hope you'll like it. For now, I bid all of you loverly ladies adieu!
> 
> Thanks again! A billion!
> 
>   
>    
>    
> 
> 
> * Btw, if you were wondering about the golden box he gave her, it was [this](http://www.godiva.com/140pc-gold-ballotin-classic/75881.html)  
>  Such a sweetheart!


End file.
